sons who died For the cause of long-down-trodden man! Glory O! to mount Leinster's own darling and pride: Dauntless Kelly, the boy from Killanne! Recorded by Clancys
I found my love 'neath the gasworks croft falls Dreamed a dream by the old canal Kissed my girl by the factory wall Dirty old town, dirty old town Clouds
Lord Harry, if ever you marry They'll leave you with a baby that's none of your own. (or "and swear it's your own".) Recorded by Clancys
't rule Jock McGhee. Now Johnny Is a bonny lad, he is a lad of mine, I've never had a better lad and I've had twenty-nine. Recorded by Clancys filename
I sowed the seeds of love I sowed them in the springtime Gathered them up in the morning so soon While small birds sweetly sing While small birds sweetly
broke in talkin' to you now, But I'll leave you where I found you, at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe." Recorded by Burl Ives and several Clancys filename
Now Jack was a sailor who roamed on the town And she was a damsel who skipped up and down Said the damsel to Jack as she passed him by Would you care
1 * * 57 Who will plow the field now, and who will sow the corn 1 * * 57 Who will wash the sheep now, and keep them neatly shorn 4 1 * 57 The stack that
trees are sweetly blooming And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather. from Sondra Stigen, 1984 recorded by the McPeake Family, Redpath, Clancys
a strange noise 'Twas the Old Flute still a-whistlin' "The Protestant Boys". Note: the tune Protestant Boys is also known as Lilliburlero RG Recorded by Patric Galvin, Clancys
Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing, For the love of one's country is a terrible thing. It banishes fear with the speed of a flame, And it
When I was young, I had no sense, I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence. The only tune that it would play Was Over the Hills and Far Away. So early in
In this windy old weather, stormy old weather Whilst when the wind blows we'll all go together In this windy old weather, stormy old weather Whilst when
We're the D-Day Dodgers, way off in Italy Always on the vino, always on the spree; Eighth Army scroungers and their tanks, We live in Rome, among the
(S. McGrath) The French drink wine, the English tea. The Yankee drinks his hot black coffee. The child drinks milk nine times a day. The Scotsman sips
They're moving father's grave to build a sewer They're moving it regardless of expense. They're moving his remains to lay down nine-inch drains To irrigate
Now brave boys, we're on the march off to Portugal and Spain Drums are beating, banners flying the Devil at home will come tonight so it's go, fare thee
Methinks I see a host of craft Spreading their sails alee Down the Humber they do glide All bound for the Northern Sea Me thinks I see on each small craft